


Ten Minutes Away

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shaving, That stupid mustache, s4e6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Maybe if Shane had realized Ryan was paying so much attention to his face, he might have gotten a clue a hell of a lot sooner.





	Ten Minutes Away

**Author's Note:**

> Or, Ryan Bergara frees us all from the curse of that mustache.
> 
> Late to the party and the fandom, but I just have been thinking about this for far too long.
> 
> Normally I don't do disclaimers, but hey, it's RPF, so remember this is all 110% fiction.

Shane barely gets his door shut before the fatigue sweeps over him. He drops his travel bag on the floor, not even bothering with locking the door. He’s exhausted from the travel, and wants nothing more than to just collapse into bed.

 

A few long strides in, and he can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. He ignores it, figuring it’s his typical  _ I’m home _ text from Ryan because, hey, can’t be too safe. He just likes to know. Ryan humors him.

 

It’s what friends are for.

 

He makes it into his bedroom, shoes somehow kicked off along the way, and flops down face first. His pillow smells familiar, always better than the pillows at hotels and motels, and he breathes deep, feeling his body going to jelly, limp and liquid. It’s a nice feeling, and it could lull him into sleep, if he wasn’t worried about possibly breaking his glasses like this. With a grunt he rolls over, takes them off and manages to get them on his nightstand. 

 

The room is quiet. The silence is always rather jarring, when he comes home. He’s used to an endless string of Ryan’s chatter while on shoots, of TJ and Mark’s little snarks at them. Just, the general  _ existence _ of people around him.

 

At home there’s… nothing.

 

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, even if he knows it’s a lie. The moment shoots end and they go home he’s stupidly  _ lonely _ because… well…

 

Ryan doesn’t just come home with him.

 

“Fuck off,” he mutters to  _ himself _ , at himself, for himself. Crushing on one of your best friends at his age just seems ridiculous, and yet- here he is. No denying it. He tried that, for too long. Now all he can do is stare the damn infatuation in the face and shrug because  _ what’s going to come of it _ ?

 

Nothing. End of story. He’ll just deal with it silently, wear it out and run it down until it just dissipates. It’ll happen eventually.

 

Shane rolls onto his side, pressing one cheek into his pillow and promising himself a few good hours of sleep. He can worry about unpacking, about  _ food _ after that. And he’s right there, on the cusp of sweet sleep, when he feels his phone, pinned in his pocket between him and the bed, buzzing again.

 

He sighs, shifting onto his back and fishing it out. It feels blinding, even though it’s still light outside-  _ bless curtains _ is all Shane has to say about that.

 

There’s a string of texts he’s missed, all from one single sender.

 

**Ry-Guy**

 

_ Hey I’m home. _

 

_ You in? _

 

_ Listen I’m coming over. It’s important. _

 

_ Shane I’m ten minutes away. _

 

_ I hope you’re not sleeping. _

 

Shane glances at the time stamps and then the  _ time _ , and realizes ten minutes away was  _ ten minutes ago _ . What in all the hells is so important that Ryan has to trek over? They  _ just _ split up at the airport. It’s been maybe an hour.  _ Maybe _ .

 

And yet there’s a sudden loud knock at Shane’s door. Resigned that he can’t really stop this, instead of yelling Shane texts  _ it’s unlocked _ and sets his phone on his chest, closing his eyes. A moment later he hears the door swing open, and Ryan shuffling in. The door shuts again, and there’s a moment of non-movement, and Shane realizes Ryan is locking the door.  _ Thoughtful _ .

 

Shane can trace Ryan’s footsteps around the apartment, until they’re coming right through his bedroom door without even a moment of hesitation. The bed dips, and that’s  _ definitely _ Ryan sitting on the edge of it, next to Shane.

 

“Dude, you just left everything everywhere.”

 

Shane doesn’t respond or open his eyes, and he gets a gentle shove to his shoulder from Ryan.

 

“Don’t fake sleep on me. You’re awake.”

 

“Maybe I’m dead,” Shane says, even as he cracks on eye open. “Plan to launch an investigation here in the apartment?”

 

Ryan snorts. “Yeah, that’d be a great episode.  _ Proof of the Spaghetti Monster _ or some bullshit. Shane Madej, noodle ghost.”

 

Shane actually laughs, because no matter the awful jokes Ryan tries to crack, he just can’t help it. Mostly because it always makes Ryan grin, and that smile could stop wars. Shane figures someone should tell the Pentagon or something.

 

“If I actually come back, I will issue you a formal apology for being wrong. Written right on these walls.” Ryan just shakes his head, and Shane continues. “So what’s so important? I’m dead man. I want some sleep.”

 

“That,” Ryan says, pointing towards Shane’s face. Shane furrows his brow, before realizing Ryan is pointing just above his mouth.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

“It was perfect for the episode.”

 

“I will hear  _ no defense _ on that ‘stache. It’s going.” Ryan is just staring at Shane while he says it, and Shane  _ could _ argue if he wants a mustache  _ he damn well can have one- _ except he doesn’t, so he won’t. It was just a gimmick. He thought it was fun.

 

“I was going to shave in the morning.”

 

“Yeah well, no time like the present.”

 

Shane sits up finally, reaching back to rub his neck. He’s got a crick in it that a good pillow would solve. “Did you honestly come all the way over here just to tell me to shave?” Ryan nods, like it’s not ridiculous, and Shane doesn’t even have anything to say to that. 

 

Except that if Ryan hates it so much, of course it’ll be gone.

 

Except he  _ doesn’t _ say that, because that would out himself and this whole stupid  _ crush _ and he’s not looking for that.

 

“...Fine,” is all he has, instead. He throws his legs over the edge of the bed and gets up, taking a moment to stretch. He feels like Ryan is watching, but shoves that thought down. Figures Ryan just wants to make sure Shane doesn’t try some daring escape in a last ditch effort to keep his mustache.

 

He walks for the door, out into the apartment and for the bathroom. It’s only when he’s a step inside that he realizes that Ryan is  _ right behind him _ .

 

“Gonna watch?” He asks, as he pulls open the mirror to grab his razor and shaving cream.

 

Ryan crosses his arms and  _ doesn’t move _ , in silent answer. And Shane… didn’t expect that.

 

“Didn’t realize you were into that,” Shane offers, giving a waggle of his brows. That gets Ryan snorting a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of good ole fashion internet content if you google  _ shaving fetish _ .”

 

“God shut up,” Ryan says, but he’s still laughing. Laughing and walking over to Shane and actually guiding him a few steps back. Ryan reaches up, gets his hands on Shane’s shoulders and forces him to sit down on the closed toilet lid. He manages to take the razor and set it aside, pop the cap on the shaving cream, before Shane can really react.

 

“Wait, are you really-”

 

“Can’t trust you to do it,” Ryan interjects, cutting him off. “After all, you thought it was a good idea in the first place.” He’s got shaving cream in his hands, and Shane’s not braced when those hands are suddenly on his jaw. It’s cold, and he fights down a shiver, but it’s more from the strange intimacy of the whole ridiculous situation than the temperature.

 

Ryan’s gotten more  _ touchy-feely _ lately. But that just comes with time and knowing someone, Shane always assumed. But  _ this _ , this is a bit much. This is outside the normal parameters. And his brain doesn’t know how to process it.

 

“So just, try not to move around,” Ryan says, after he’s rinsed his hands off and he’s holding Shane’s razor. “Last thing I need is you looking like a torture victim.”

 

_ Be funny _ , Shane tries to tell himself.  _ There’s a joke to be had here, a quip. Make a fucking comment _ .

 

Instead he swallows, feels like his tongue and vocal cords and entire brain have betrayed him, and says absolutely nothing.

 

Ryan’s finger on his chin tips his head back slightly, and then the razor is dragging one path up along his throat. Shane hears it tap on the sink, and then it’s back. Ryan is weirdly quiet while he works, like he’s afraid of speaking and nicking Shane- but Shane misses his chatter. The silence is heavy, and he can hear his heart hammering in his head, beating so fast that all notions of his jet lag exhaustion are gone. He’s so painfully wide awake now.

 

Ryan’s got half his face done, without touching the mustache itself, when Shane finally manages words. Except instead of a joke all he’s got is, “I didn’t realize you hated it so much.”

 

Ryan inclines his head, staring down at him- and wow,  _ that’s  _ a change, but not something Shane hates. Then he just shrugs a shoulder. “Hold still,” he says, and he’s got Shane’s chin between his fingers, and  _ god _ that grip is good. Too good, too romance-movie good that Shane can barely listen to the command. His fingers drum on his thighs as Ryan keeps talking. “And I wouldn’t have hated it if like… everything had matched.” The razor drags along part of Shane’s upper lip. “I mean… just grow your beard to match or something. I don’t know man.”

 

Another drag, and then Ryan is tapping the razor on the sink, before he comes back for another pass, to be safe. He seems satisfied after that, moving back to Shane’s neck, to the other side of his face.

 

“Stubble is fine,” he continues, and now he’s just  _ talking _ . “And I don’t know, maybe if it was a little different it would’ve looked better, but it just.” Another swipe, another tap. “Looked so  _ ridiculous _ .”

 

Another swipe, and this time Shane winces. The razor snagged skin, and suddenly there’s a small spot of red welling up under his jaw. Ryan curses, setting the razor down and grabbing a tissue to press up against it. “Fuck man, sorry.”

 

Shane isn’t really registering the cut. Or the sting. He’s still trying to process that Ryan was so focused on his face, to the point that he felt the need to come over here and rectify Shane’s  _ facial hair mishap _ on his own.

 

And he wants to stop his mouth, but the joke is out. “If I knew you were going to be so focused on my face I would’ve dolled it up for you.”

 

Joke,  _ joke _ , it’s supposed to be funny. But it’s not, and Shane knows the moment he’s said it, and Ryan’s eyes are going wide and then darting away from him. And suddenly the air is  _ heavy _ and Shane doesn’t know what this even is. What sort of tension.

 

Instead of breaking it, he lets it linger. Ryan eventually pulls the tissue away, tosses it, and finishes the last few swipes of the razor. He sets it aside and Shane stands up, slips past Ryan to rinse off his face. He’s drying it when he realizes that Ryan is still avoiding looking at him.

 

“Seriously,” Shane says, rubbing his jaw, feeling nothing but freshly smooth skin. “If I knew you’d hate it so much I would’ve left that joke at the door. I could’ve put on one of those cheap fake mustaches.”

 

Ryan offers a small smile, looks relieved that Shane is opening up for some banter. “That’s what it already looked like.”

 

“Ouch. Harsh.” Shane looks back at the mirror, inclining his head so he can examine the small cut. It’s stopped bleeding already, and honestly, he probably would have cut himself more than this if he had done it himself, with how tired he had been.

 

He turns back, ready to say something else, to keep this going, but Ryan’s closer than he was- and he’s reaching up, pushing Shane’s head gently so he can look at the cut. His fingers drag down Shane’s throat, over it, and  _ okay _ , this is not normal. This is so outside the normal realm that Shane doesn’t even think it’s real.

 

“Ry,” he says, but his voice sounds shaky. And then Ryan’s fingers and sliding towards the back of his neck, and Shane tries again, tries to say it clearer, “ _ Ryan _ .”

 

It comes out quivering, it comes out a little desperate, a little dizzy like. And then Ryan’s hand is cupping the back of Shane’s neck, pulling gently-

 

And that’s Ryan’s mouth, on his. Those are  _ Ryan’s lips on his own _ , kissing him. It’s soft, it’s not quite chaste, but the movement is subtle. It still forces Shane’s lungs to shut down entirely. He barely even thinks to breathe when Ryan pulls away, just slightly, and looks up at him with eyes that are too big and  _ too good _ .

 

Shane’s dreaming. He’s got to be. He fell asleep after coming home and came up with this crazy scenario just to get out some tension. That is the only plausible explanation to Ryan kissing him.

 

Ryan stares for a second, two, three, before his eyes flick from Shane’s own to his lips, and down towards his neck. Shane swallows, feels sweat prickling at his spine, and then Ryan is backing him up just a step, so Shane bumps the sink. It digs into him, but gives Ryan something to grab onto, around him.

 

And  _ holy fuck Shane is bracketed by Ryan’s arms. Ryan’s ungodly perfect arms.  _ Dizzy, Shane opens his mouth to say something, anything,  _ anything at all _ , but Ryan leans in, plants his mouth on Shane’s neck, where he cut. And instead of words, Shane gets the kind of whimper that is downright  _ embarrassing _ .

 

He feels Ryan shiver, feels Ryan press flush to him and suck at his skin. If his cut bleeds again, tingles Ryan’s tongue with a coppery taste, Shane doesn’t know. He’s too keyed in on the fact that Ryan is flush to him, that he’s so sure Ryan can feel his half hard cock which is quickly threatening to be harder than ever  _ in his fucking life _ .

 

Except- Shane’s not the only one. It takes a moment, until Ryan has moved his mouth down along Shane’s pulse, before Shane properly feels Ryan against him. And the fact that he’s  _ definitely  _ hard, and grinding into Shane ever so slightly.

 

Ryan’s mouth stops when it hits the collar to Shane’s shirt, and then he’s leaning up, taking over Shane’s mouth again. It’s nearly the opposite of the first kiss, heated with Ryan’s tongue pushing into Shane’s mouth, sliding along his own, learning the points of his teeth, the plush of his cheeks. There’s a little noise lost in it all, and Shane doesn’t know if it’s from him or Ryan.

 

Ryan’s teeth get at Shane’s lower lip, pinch it and tug, and Shane groans. He finally moves his hands, and if this were real and he were  _ sane _ he’d push Ryan away, he’d try to get a handle on this whole situation-

 

But he’s got to be dreaming and it’s all too good, exactly what he’s wanted for  _ fuck how long _ , and instead his hands are in Ryan’s hair, tangling and tugging. Ryan groans, and it vibrates the kiss, makes Shane shake all over. This time  _ he’s _ the one grinding forward, making his interest perfectly known-

 

And then one of Ryan’s hands is on his hip. It gives a squeeze, before it’s between them, working on the button of Shane’s jeans. Between their kissing, the tight space, and only one hand, it takes some time before the button is even popped, but Shane can’t seem to even care. He’s drowning in the affection, losing his mind to Ryan’s mouth and wishing he could burn alive in the fire that seems to be crackling between them, in their blood.

 

The zipper is easier, and then Ryan’s hand is pushing into Shane’s jeans, pressed right up against his aching cock. The front of his underwear is dampening quickly, but Ryan just palms at him regardless, not seeming to care. Shane gives another tug to Ryan’s hair, and Ryan breaks the kiss, hissing against Shane’s kiss swollen lips.

 

He gives one glance up, and then suddenly his hands are gone. His knees hit the floor  _ hard _ , but Ryan acts like he doesn’t notice, and fuck if Shane can think that far. Especially when Ryan’s hands reach up, tug his jeans just low enough that he can access the waistband to Shane’s underwear. He curls his fingers beneath it and tugs, and Shane’s cock bobs free, burning hot and flushed against air that feels too cold.

 

Ryan wraps one hand around it, giving a slow stroke, and Shane can’t keep his hips from canting forward. Precum beads at the tip, and a quick pass of Ryan’s palm over the head leaves the downstroke smooth, slick. Shane wants to tip his head back, close his eyes, but he can’t tear his stare away. Ryan’s watching his own hand, a flush on his cheeks that is almost feverish, that only makes Shane’s cock harder.

 

Shane grips at the sink, still ignoring how it’s digging into him. He grips it until he knuckles go white. He holds on as if letting go would mean falling off the face of the Earth.

 

Another stroke down, and Ryan’s holding his cock by the base. He leans closer, and suddenly those lips are pressing a wet kiss just beneath Shane’s cockhead. A sigh escapes him, and Ryan smiles,  _ fuck Shane can feel it _ , before pulling back enough to open his mouth and suck the whole head in.

 

The sigh turns into a groan, and Shane’s hips try to buck. Ryan’s other hand reaches up, squeezes and pushes back- and  _ fuck _ there’s strength there. It’s… it’s new and Shane  _ loves _ it.

 

Ryan’s tongue swirls around Shane’s cockhead, before teasing his slit. Shane bites at his own lip, watching and shaking as Ryan inches down, takes more into his mouth. He can’t get the whole thing in, but he uses his hand to make up for it, bobbing his head and stroking slowly. 

 

It’s surreal and almost breathtaking- fuck,  _ almost _ is a joke, it  _ is _ taking Shane’s breath away, leaving him forgetting how to breathe entirely. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t need to be and it wouldn’t be  _ right _ if it was, because they’re never perfect together but they  _ work _ anyway and-

 

“ _ Shit Ry _ ,” Shane breathes, breaking his own train of thought. He lets go of the sink with one hand, reaches down to thread his fingers into Ryan’s hair. Ryan hums his approval over the touch, glancing up through his lashes. And  _ fuck _ if Shane has ever seen anything hotter than Ryan with his mouth stretched around half his dick.

 

Ryan closes his eyes, picks up the pace a little. Shane shivers, tugging at his hair occasionally, his hips shifting to meet Ryan’s mouth ever so slightly. It feels almost filthy to be watching him like this, but Shane would burn this entire scene into his retinas if he could. He doesn’t want to miss a second.

 

Ryan shifts a bit, groans around Shane’s cock, and Shane feels the hand on his hip leave. He catches a glimpse of Ryan’s hand in his lap, palming at his cock through his pants, and  _ knowing _ that Ryan is so into this is what sends Shane rocketing towards orgasm. His cock throbs and the knot that had been building in his belly and his balls suddenly swells, and he can barely take it.

 

“Ry.  _ Ryan _ .” He pulls at his hair, as if to pull him off, but Ryan  _ doesn’t budge _ . And Shane can’t stop himself, and  _ fuck if he wants to _ . He just tosses his head back and groans, shivering as he comes over Ryan’s tongue. Ryan sucks him through it, his hand moving to milk Shane fucking  _ dry _ , until Shane’s so hyper sensitive it hurts. He pushes at Ryan gently, and Ryan lets his softening cock fall from his mouth, as Shane lifts his head.

 

Ryan’s biting at his own lip, grinding into the heel of his hand, and Shane swears he’s going to lose his mind. He drops down with him, and  _ fuck _ yeah that hurts the knees, but it’s worth it, when he can bat Ryan’s hands away, go for his fly. Ryan doesn’t protest, just gets his arms around Shane’s shoulders and starts kissing him again. His mouth is hot, and Shane doesn’t even think, just gets his tongue between Ryan’s lips.

 

His mouth is  _ bitter _ , so ungodly so that any other moment Shane might hate it. But it’s  _ his cum _ , is from the fact that  _ Ryan fucking Bergara just sucked his cock _ , and that’s enough to make Shane love it. When Ryan’s tongue slides with his, he swears there’s some pushed into his mouth, and all he can do is swallow it down and try not to lose his focus.

 

He finally gets Ryan’s pants open, pulls them and his underwear down in one fluid motion. Ryan keens into his mouth, a sweet wanton sound, and Shane swears  _ his cock fucking twitches _ .

 

God _ damn _ how is it even possible to want to go all over again.

 

He wraps a hand around Ryan’s cock, giving him a firm stroke. It’s dry, but the precum that dribbles onto his fist makes it much easier after a moment. Ryan grasps at Shane’s back, cants his hips forward and fucks Shane’s fist- and that’s… that’s fine. That’s  _ so much more than fine _ .

 

The kiss breaks, just so Ryan can dip his head down, press his forehead to Shane’s shoulder. He’s shaking all over, like he’s been pent up for  _ weeks _ , and it’s a nice thought, a nice fantasy for Shane to entertain. Like Ryan’s wanted this just as badly or more than him, that he’s been the same kind of mess Shane is.

 

Dreams are great in that he  _ can _ believe that.

 

Ryan’s panting, and Shane can feel when his cock twitches. “C’mon Ryan,” he says, voice broken as if  _ he’d _ been the one with a cock in his mouth. Broken from too much desire.

 

Ryan whines, blunt nails really pressing in through Shane’s shirt. “Say it again,” he mumbles, before turning his head, burying his face in Shane’s neck now. “My name.”

 

The words tickle slightly, but the heat that Ryan’s breath brings is far more important. Shane squeezes his cock, rubs his thumb over the head and against his slit, breathing out  _ Ryan _ , and Ryan’s gone. He moans, cutting it off by getting his mouth on Shane’s neck, teeth pressing into skin. Shane winces and hisses out a breath, but it’s  _ good _ , and fuck he can feel cum sliding down his fist, along his fingers, can feel as Ryan fucks his fist until there’s nothing left in him.

 

Ryan slumps a little, resting more of his weight onto Shane. He’s panting, but his grip has lessened on Shane’s back until his hands are sliding up to Shane’s shoulders.

 

Carefully, Ryan pushes himself back, actually looks up at Shane. His eyes are a sort of dancing nervous that is more suited to him walking into the basement of a supposedly long haunted house than looking at  _ Shane _ . Shane just stares back, not really knowing what to even  _ say _ .

 

And then, because his mouth doesn’t know when to  _ behave _ , “This is one fuck of a dream.”

 

Ryan furrows his brows, looks ten levels of confused. “Dream?” His voice isn’t as wrecked as it could be, but it’s a little hoarse.

 

“Well, obviously. I passed out after coming home from the airport and just whipped up some scenario to ease some pent up tension. Gotta say though, not used to  _ realizing it _ .” Shane sucks at his tongue for a moment, before adding, “Wonder what else I can do that goes against all reasonable thought.”

 

Ryan stares for another second, before he actually  _ laughs _ . He leans his head back down to Shane’s shoulder and wheezes with it until he’s shaking and there are tears in his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ Shane,” he manages, “you’re  _ awake _ . Dumbass.”

 

“A likely story.”

 

“How can I prove it?”

 

Shane shrugs. Ryan lifts his head, and then gets one hand behind Shane’s neck again. He leans back in and kisses him again, slower, sweeter, closer to their first kiss. Shane lets him, his clean hand grasping at Ryan’s tshirt, and  _ fuck _ , the guy shouldn’t be able to kiss like that.

 

When Ryan eases back, and looks at him for a moment, takes him in… and okay, he really doesn’t  _ remember _ falling asleep. And he’s never had a moment of clarity where he  _ knew _ he was dreaming before-

 

Which means he’s wide the fuck awake.

 

“... _ oh _ ,” is all he can manage, and Ryan rolls his eyes.

 

“Nothing else?” Shane bites his own tongue, and Ryan just grins. “I don’t usually get the last word.”

 

“You lose focus before you can.” It comes out as if they weren’t just kneeling on Shane’s bathroom floor. As if they hadn’t just gotten each other off. As if this wasn’t right out of Shane’s plethora of jerk off fantasies involving Ryan.

 

Ryan snorts, leans back a little more, seems to take in the awkward mess they’ve made. “My knees hurt.” Shane nods in agreement- still dumbfounded, but beginning to come back to himself. And he’s definitely not the most comfortable in that moment.

 

They both shamble up, glancing away as they awkwardly try to adjust clothing. Shane desperately wants to wash his hand, feels like it’s forced to exist uselessly until he does. He turns away from Ryan, takes a deep breath and tries to catalog everything that just happened. Except the only compartments he’s got for this sort of thing exist in the realm of  _ fantasy _ , and he’s not sure if he should be elated or horrified or just plain fucking  _ confused _ .

 

He takes maybe a little too long to wash his hands, if only because he’s a little afraid of what he’ll see when he turns around- and yes, he makes a point to not look in the mirror. Even if… even if Ryan kissed  _ him _ , he still could be unhappy about all this. Shane just never entertained the idea that this could happen and he has no idea what to  _ expect _ .

 

When he can’t put it off any longer, he turns around- and it’s a good sign that Ryan is still there. Looking a bit sheepish, color still on his cheeks, but  _ there _ .

 

“Uh.” It’s all Ryan gets out, before he tilts his head and looks straight up at the ceiling. And for a brief moment, Shane swears he can see the anxiety crackling through him, moving like an electrical current. He wants to break it. He doesn’t know how.

 

“Fuck it.” Ryan takes a deep breath, but then he’s looking at Shane again. “I’m not going to just cop out and say we’re tired and whatever fucking bullshit. And I totally shouldn’t have just done that, but… I don’t know man. You were so close and I don’t get to just touch you like that, and I wasn’t ready, fuck I thought I was, and I just-”

 

“ _ Ryan _ .”

 

At the sound of his name, Ryan stops. He stares at Shane, who can feel his own pulse hammering away in his head, swears he can hear Ryan’s too. But Ryan’s nervous chatter, he can deal with it,  _ he can _ . He knows how to handle this, it doesn’t have to be any different than it ever was. He just…

 

He just has to be Shane, and he’ll always know how to handle Ryan.

 

“...Do you want to get dinner?” It sounds  _ stupid _ the moment Shane says it, but a beat after the words are out, Ryan is chattering again, rushed words coming in a single breath.

 

“Like, dinner so this is normal, or dinner so you can let me down easy, or dinner like a  _ date _ or-”

 

“What do you want it to be?” Shane pauses for Ryan to answer, but when he doesn’t, he tosses in, “Because I meant like a Netflix and Chill sort of dinner in my messy apartment date, except we already did the  _ chill _ part.” Ryan snorts a laugh, and then suddenly he’s smiling. The big kind that has always turned Shane to utter jelly, the kind that makes his eyes shine- and  _ who the hell has any right to smile like that _ ?

 

“Yeah.” Ryan takes a grounding breath. “I’d like that.” He takes a step closer, his eyes flicking from Shane’s eyes to his mouth. “I’d really like to kiss you again, too.”

 

That’s not something Shane can really say  _ no _ to, but all he really manages is a choked, “yeah?”, and then Ryan is  _ right there _ , one hand flat to Shane’s chest. He leans up, ghosts a kiss to Shane’s lips, gives him the option to leave it at that or not.

 

Shane hooks an arm around Ryan’s waist, means to just give him  _ one _ proper kiss, just one- but ends up cupping the back of Ryan’s head with his other hand, ends up searching his mouth with his tongue, ends up feeling weak in his sore knees all over again-

 

It’s Ryan who breaks it this time, breathless and smiling. “Careful big guy,” he manages, “or we’re just going to repeat everything we just did.”

 

“My knees can’t handle that,” Shane says, and Ryan huffs a laugh. Shane lets go of him, but then thinks better of it and takes one of his hands. For a moment Ryan doesn’t react, like he didn’t expect it, but then their fingers are lacing together and Shane is feeling  _ butterflies _ and what, is he ten or something?

 

He’s beyond caring.

 

They finally leave the bathroom, which Shane is sure is going to be comical later to think on- or possibly he’s going to get at  _ least _ half hard every time he walks into his bathroom, which is more than mildly inconvenient. But he can worry about that later.

 

Ryan flops down on the couch, and Shane settles in next to him, tossing an arm up along the back of the couch, behind Ryan. Without thinking. As if this was just something they did.

 

It shouldn’t be so easy to fall into.

 

Shane reaches up, rubs a hand along his smooth jaw. “If I’d known growing that mustache would get us  _ here _ , I would have done it a solid season ago.”

 

Ryan snorts, shaking his head. But then he glances at Shane with a quizzical little smile. “Wait, really?”

 

“Oh yeah. At least.” He shrugs a shoulder, and can tell Ryan is tucking that thought away to revisit later. He’s sure there’s a  _ lot _ to revisit, actually, but Shane figures they can take a minute, or a night, to just feel this out.

 

There’s the morning for conversation.

 

“It was just so  _ bad _ ,” Ryan says, and then leans against Shane’s side. “Seriously man, never again.  _ Never _ .”

 

“Demanding.” Shane has the urge to toy with Ryan’s hair, and for the first time he actually lets himself. The hand on the back of the couch finds Ryan’s hair and just threads into it. “Does this mean you’re going to make sure I shave everyday? Because a little work and you could perfect that technique.” He winks, and Ryan huffs- but doesn’t move away.

 

“A little stubble is hot.” The moment he says it, Ryan groans, turns his face into Shane’s side, and Shane is laughing.

 

“I’m hot now?”

 

“Fuck off. I’m tired.” Shane chuckles but lets it go, because he’s tired too. Bone tired now that the adrenaline from having too many of his fantasies suddenly fulfilled at once is fading. But Ryan adds, too softly, “Maybe a little.”

 

Shane, for once, lets it go completely. He just keeps playing with Ryan’s hair, thinking if they don’t move soon, dinner is going to be a joke and they’re going to fall asleep on his couch.

 

That’s fine. That’s more than fine, actually. Shane would welcome it. And from the way Ryan seems so bonelessly relaxed against him- a very  _ un-Ryan like thing _ \- he figures Ryan wouldn’t have any complaints about that either.


End file.
